


Codename: Firefly

by meganwritesstuff



Series: Codename: Firefly [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Background Clintashsa, Background implied Stucky, Coming of Age, Crossover, Gen, MCU Spoilers, Non-Graphic Violence, Teen Superheroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-12 16:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5672428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meganwritesstuff/pseuds/meganwritesstuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snarky teen Scarrow is a superpowered vigilante with more than a few problems, S.H.I.E.L.D. being most of them. She's been on the run for years and is perfectly content to stay under the world's radar as she battles a terrible burden. But then comes the day when everything changes; by an unfortunate twist of events, Scarrow finds herself recruited into the Avengers under the guidance of mentor Peter, otherwise known as Spider-Man. They form an unlikely friendship, and Scarrow finds a kindred spirit in Steve Rogers, who knows more than most how it feels to be alone. But Scarrow's still hiding from her old life- and it won't be long before she has to face up to the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scarrow

NEW YORK- 12TH APRIL, 2015

Midnight in Manhattan. Huh, thought Scarrow to herself as she walked alone down the street. That sounded like the name of a movie. Only, this wasn't a movie. This was real life. No glamour or romance here; just hardened criminals and danger at every corner.

  She pulled her hood up as she carried on, determined not to let anyone recognise her. She'd only been in New York two days, and to be honest, she kind of liked it. But if anyone so much as looked twice at her, especially a certain agent with a dry smile and probably designer sunglasses, she would have to leave.

  A sudden flash of red streaked through her vision, and Scarrow looked up to see the city's very own superhero, Spider-Man, swing past on a web. “Alright there, kid?” he called, and she nodded. He landed softly on the pavement, falling into step with her.

  _No, no, no, no, no…_ Scarrow let her hair cover her face, trying to keep her eyes on the ground.

  “Sure?” he asked again.

  “I'm fine,” Scarrow muttered gruffly, before adding a “thanks.”

  “It's pretty late, y'know,” Spider-Man added, like she didn't already know. “Don't you have a home to get to?”

  “I… have somewhere to be. Listen, don't worry about me. I'm fine. Just got some things I need to do.” Scarrow knew she should have stopped there, but didn't. “You of all people should know about that.” She hadn't meant to say it, but here was one person who knew how it felt to keep secrets, to become someone other than yourself.

 She couldn't see the webslinger's face, but Scarrow swore that she saw the fabric of his mask shift as his expression changed.

  “You're not from round here,” he remarked, taking in Scarrow's gravelly voice and London accent. It was a pretty generic one, to be honest; Standard English roughened up around the edges as she grew older. Not quite the Queen, but not quite the East End either. She shook her head and quickened her pace, not that it did her any good.

  “Kid,” Spider-Man said, bending down so he could look into her eyes. “Be careful out there. OK?” She was oh- so- tempted to roll her eyes, but instead gave him the benefit of the doubt and shot a half- smile at him.

  “Will do, Spidey.” He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, like it would fix everything, and was gone just as quickly as he had arrived. Scarrow breathed a sigh of relief, trying to suppress the excitement her younger self would have felt: _(Dude. You just met Spider-Man!)_ and carried on walking. He seemed like a nice guy, she thought to herself, but she never teamed up with other heroes. Not that she considered herself one. It was too risky, what with S.H.I.E.L.D. watching her every move. They'd been playing this game of cat and mouse for what had seemed like far too long, and goddammit, she wasn't going to get caught.

  When Scarrow arrived at a deserted alley in a dodgy- looking backstreet, she ducked inside before anyone noticed she was there. She quickly shrugged off her too- big hoodie until she was left standing in a black t- shirt and jeans. Nothing that would make her stand out- yet.

  She shut her eyes, and felt the burn of the plasma that coursed through her blood. The buzz, the power; sometimes it was hard to forget how much she hated it. A familiar tingle spread its way through her body as the plasma stained her hair stark white (Stark. Ha.) and her irises the same yellow as the streetlights. She quickly tied her hair up and looked round to make sure nobody had seen her change. With that, she headed into the alley. She knew what- or rather, who- she was looking for.

  However, Scarrow's search was interrupted when a sudden cry of pain erupted from around the corner. She ran round, and found a man cowering in the corner of the street, his hands covering his head in an act of self- preservation. A huge beast of a thug was attacking him, delivering blow after blow to his entire body.

  “I said,” _Kick._ “Where's the money?” “I don't know, I don't know- please, you gotta believe me- I don't have any, I left my wallet at home- _please- agh-_ ” The man struck out again and again, and before Scarrow knew what she was doing she'd flown forward and thrown the attacker against the wall with the strength of someone twice her size.

  “What do you think you're doin', huh?” she growled in her acquired Brooklyn accent, which she'd picked up and spent a long time practising. Anything to stop people recognising her.

  “What the hell is wrong with you-” the man started, trying to lash out at her, but Scarrow's hands burned hot energy into him and he cried out in pain.

  “Do you have a problem with this man?” Scarrow hissed at him. “Did he do somethin' to you?” The man shook his head, calming down. Or seeming to. The instant Scarrow let her grip loosen, he swung a kick at her. Scarrow leaned back but still caught some of the impact, jarring one of her right ribs.

  “Oh, you motherf- you're in for it now-” She threw a punch at him, which may have been pretty tame for a superhero, but when your fist is charged with plasma heat, it can hurt your victims quite a bit. As the thug reeled backwards, she kicked him hard where it hurt, again, her foot glowing with energy. Finally, she hurled a bolt of energy into his stomach, throwing the attacker against the wall. He slumped, unconscious as Scarrow ran to help the battered man.

  “You alright?” she asked, helping him to his feet. “Yeah- thanks-” the man gasped, incredulous. “Gee, that was amazing- hey, what do they call you? I've never seen you round here before.”

  “Well, most people call me Firefly.” Scarrow said, smiling at him. “There aren't many pictures of me out there- I'm not quite Spidey famous. I get around a lot.”

  “Well, they call me Jimmy- hey, look out!” She tried to turn but was caught off guard by a sharp blow to the head, knocking her to the floor.

  “GO!” she managed to yell at Jimmy, who scrambled away as fast as his legs could take him. Another sharp blow was dealt to Scarrow's stomach, and she resisted the overwhelming urge to curl up in pain and instead threw another bolt of plasma at her attacker, who seemed momentarily stunned for enough time to allow her to scramble to her feet.

  Scarrow threw up a shield before Jimmy's mugger- wow, he did not know when to give up- could attack again. He ricocheted off the shield and knocked himself into a wall, and Scarrow let down her shield and punched him in the stomach, hard. A ripple of energy ran through the air as he slumped to the floor, and she knew that he wouldn't be getting up for a while now.

  An impressed whistle came from the wall above her, and her gaze snapped up to find Spider-Man staring down at her.

  _Really?_ All the places he could have been and he had to find her _again?_ Didn't the guy have anywhere else to be?

  “I was going to give you a hand, but it looks like you don't really need one,” he said, swinging down to land beside her.

  “All sorted,” Scarrow said, “but thanks. I'd better be off.”

  “Hey, you're not getting off that easy!” he said, catching her by the shoulder. “Another masked vigilante appears in the city as if out of nowhere? With white hair and glowing eyes? You think I don't know about you, Firefly?”

  She didn't know how to respond to that. “Sorry,” she said quietly, brushing his hand off her shoulder, “but it's better if you don't know anything. I don't do team- ups.”

  “Aw, come on!” Spidey protested, waving his arms in exasperation. “That right there- that was awesome. Think of all the butts we could kick together! Not to mention the news coverage-”

  “That's why I have to go,” Scarrow replied. “I don't want attention. I'm just trying to do what's right.”

  “You and me both,” Spider- Man said, holding out a hand.

  “What's that for?”

  “It's an invitation. You stay for a week and we become totally awesome crime fighting buds before you disappear again. Then we go our separate ways and never see each other again. Deal?”

  “Why're you so interested in me?” Scarrow asked. “Because,” he said, “nobody wants to be alone all the time. Besides,” he added, leaning closer so his voice was hushed, “I know it's you, Hoodie Kid. I have a knack for secret identity spotting. Also, your Brooklyn accent's terrible.”

  Crap and double crap.

  Scarrow looked at his outstretched hand and probably grinning face under the mask, and took a deep breath before shaking his hand. What was she doing? She'd never stayed in one place for more than three days, and now… an entire week? With Spider- Man? This whole New York stint really wasn't going to plan. But hey- it wasn't like she had much left to lose.


	2. A Friend

Chapter 2: A Friend

He'd seen her fighting from above, and to be honest, Hoodie Kid's fighting style kind of terrified Peter. Sure, he knew how to fight- they all did- but not like this. She fought rough and dirty, tooth and nail. It reminded him somewhat of Daredevil, who patrolled Hell's Kitchen. There wasn't any sympathy, no clean fights or mastered moves; just raw power and something, a spark in her eyes that to a victim- because that's what the thug on the floor was- would have looked utterly terrifying.

Now they were both standing in the alleyway, the glare of the streetlights revealing just how young this kid- the Firefly- was. She looked no older than fifteen for sure. Peter remembered being that young, having the feeling the world was against you and having no worries except his crush on Gwen and that science homework he probably should have done before it was due in. Of course, that was just before everything changed- before the spider bit.

Looking at this girl's face, with the dark rings under her eyes and natural defensive stance, Peter didn't get the impression that her teen years had been quite so easy.

“What's your name?” he asked, and her gaze flickered back to the unconscious guy on the floor before she answered.

“Scarrow,” she replied, her usual accent returning. Sure, Peter had met a few British people before, but they were all highly academic and well- spoken. The girl had an unusual tone which made Peter think that perhaps her upbringing hadn't been as sheltered as theirs.

“Scarrow,” Peter repeated. Unusual, that was for sure. “You got a second name to go with that?” She sighed, pushing her white hair, which was a tangled mess, out of her eyes.

“Scarrow _is_ my second name. Savannah Scarrow. But- well, Scarrow has a nice ring to it. I mean, not that many people have the chance to get used to it. I just sort of named myself.”

“Don't you have any family?” Peter asked. “Friends? You just… drift?” Scarrow nodded, poking at a bruise which had blossomed on her forearm.

“Uh- huh. Well, sometimes I skateboard. But hey, drifting's not a bad way to describe it.” She shot another half- smile at him, but Peter didn't believe the sentiment was all there.

“I skateboard too,” Peter found himself saying, which wasn't what he'd intended to say at all. It was supposed to be something like 'Don't you get lonely?' or 'I'm sorry.' Scarrow caught his eye through the mask, and a grin flashed across her face for a fraction of a second.

“Maybe we'll get along, then,” she said, her tense stance relaxing a little.

“Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?”

“I'll figure something out,” Scarrow said, shrugging like the fact that she was essentially homeless didn't matter.

“You just-”

“Honestly, it's fine,” Scarrow insisted, her eyes flashing. “I'm used to being alone.”

“You don't have to be,” Peter countered. Scarrow looked back up at him through the mask, years of what was probably suppressed emotion twitching at the corners of her face.

“Don't you wish it were that simple?” she said quietly. Sure, he knew the burdens of doing what they did all too well. Always watching your back, never being safe, basically being a living target for your entire life… Everyone said that a hero's gift was their curse, and he knew how true that was.

But to have no- one in the world? No- one to love you or watch your back? Peter thought of his Aunt May and MJ. He thought of Gwen, though he tried not to. He looked down at Scarrow, who was forming absent-minded orbs of plasma in her palms.

To be alone would be the biggest curse of all.

“Listen,” he said, crouching down so he was at Scarrow's height, “Come and stay with me. Just for a week. I know you don't want to, but I just want to make sure you're OK for a little while at least. Did you know that I live in a giant spider's nest, according to the _Daily Bugle?_ ” Scarrow cracked a smile at that, despite her attempts to seem cut- off.

“OK,” she admitted, “that I kind of wanna see. But, you know I've been perfectly fine on my own for the past two years, right?” _Two years._

“Believe me,” Peter said, smiling through the mask, “I know you can take care of yourself. You've proved that pretty well. I just thought that maybe you needed a friend.”

  


***

 _Friend._ Now there was a word Scarrow hadn't heard for a long time. Spider-Man tugged off his mask to reveal a tall man who looked to be in about his early twenties, with a mop of shaggy caramel coloured hair and matching eyes that twinkled with life.

“My name's Peter Parker, and I'm just a normal guy, I promise,” he said. “I'm just worried about you.”

Scarrow looked at him, this strange man who she didn't know but was going to stay with. Who wanted to be her friend even though she couldn't have any.

She felt a familiar buzz from her head to her feet as the plasma left her hair and eyes, leaving them their usual shades of dark brown. Her skin lost its glow that the plasma gave off when it was at its most powerful, and returned to its usual shade of light brown.

“I'm just a normal person too,” Scarrow said, “but… I think it might be easier if we go our separate ways as ourselves. It's just… it's been a while since I've been anywhere for more than a couple of days at a time. I don't think I'm ready to be around people yet.”

“Just for tonight then,” Peter insisted. “You won't even see me, I promise. Hey, aren't you cold?” Scarrow reached up and put a hand on his shoulder. She never got cold. Having hot plasma running through your cells tended to keep you pretty warm. Peter smiled at her, and she couldn't help but nod. It was stupid, she knew it was stupid, but having a friendly face around, someone who seemed to care… it reminded Scarrow of what she once had.

Of what she could never have again.

“Just for tonight,” she agreed, and Peter grinned at her in a mad scientist way as he pulled his mask back on, and Scarrow charged up again as they left the alley. As they got to the end, she looked back at the unconscious criminal lying amongst the filth.

 _Good,_ she thought. _Let the rats have him._

“Hey,” said Peter, like they hadn't just had a heart to heart in a back alley over an unconscious thug, “have you been to Tony's yet? All- night coffee place just up the next block. Stuff of the gods, I tell ya. You're not hungry, are you?”

“I'm good, thanks,” Scarrow said, ignoring her stomach's growl of protest.

“Right, we're getting bagels too,” he announced, shooting a web which attached to the next building and holding out a hand to her.

“I can do better than that,” Scarrow said, grinning, and shot out a long stream of plasma which formed itself into a grappling hook. “Race you to the next block!”

And that was how Scarrow found herself sat on a roof eating bagels and drinking black coffee at midnight in Manhattan with Spider-Man.

 _Oh well,_ she thought to herself. _There are worse places I could be._

The next morning, footage on the news showed Spider-Man and the Firefly, two of the world's most powerful vigilantes, swinging through the city on ropes of plasma and web like it was their own personal playground.


End file.
